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The boys were a little less tense this time around. They had survived this once before, and the trip into occupied France was a lot shorter than the last expedition into Germany. The weather was clear as we joined the formation. There was some grumbling about being stuck in the "Purple Heart" corner again, but since grumbling is part of the job description for enlisted folk, I ignored it. The sunny skies and the drone of the engines all around us lulled everyone into a peacful state. The trip over the channel was quite pleasant - akin to one of those sightseeing tours they do back in the states. As we approached the shores near Paimpol I did a quick comm check to verify that A) the equipment worked and B) no one was asleep at their post. Some of the boys had been out quite late the night before, you see. We had just put the Channel behind us when the first wave of 109s came in. They must have scrambled after our passing because most of them came in from 6 o'clock, like they were running to catch us. Sgt Kern, manning the Top Turret, was on target today. His fire must have hit a fuel line, because one of the 109s burst into flames and began the long dive to the earth. Sgt Yaunt caught another one of the pursuing 109s in the canopy, but the damage was not fatal and the pilot pressed the attack. Some higher power must have been guiding our gunners because every gun that fired hit. The Radio Room put some holes into the port wing of a 109. The starboard cheek holed the aileron of another 109. And the port cheek hit the last 109's prop blades. We must have spooked those pilots, because after some ineffective passes they broke off. We had little time to reflect on this though, because as we flew over Ploumagoar we were attacked again. Like last time, the opposition mainly came from behind. Sgt Yaunt was the only one to score any hits. The 190's pilot must have had a hard time seeing us with all that oil covering his windscreen. The enemy's fire was much more effective this time. The first 190, coming in from 6 o'clock high, put a few shots thru the skin around the waist of the plane and managed to also knock out the Bombardier's heat. Another 190 came in from 9 o'clock and put a few shells thru the skin on the fuselage. The rest of the planes launched ineffectual attacks and flew on. The rest of the squadron was still intact, and we flew on towards Lorient. As we were approaching Hennebont, we were once again set upon by the enemy. They came in from above, on all sides. Sgt Kern once again amazed us with his accuracy, putting several rounds into the canopy of an approaching 190. The pilot is presumed to have died instantly, and the plane continued past without firing a shot. Sgt Yaunt was also continuing to score hits, putting a few holes into the wing of a 109 coming in from behind. Sgt Sheley called out a 190 coming in from 3 o'clock high, but his fire was not accurate enough to drive off the fighter. It returned fire, putting holes in the radio room, disabling our port alieron and putting a bullet into 2LT Snoek. He was knocked unconcious, and as 2LT J. Blecke was trying to switch places to take over bombardier duties, shells from a 190 ripped thru our port wing and punctured the inboard fuel tank. The flames sprung into life, and I called for a bailout. 2LT J. Blecke and 2LT Bowden tried to pull the unconcious 2LT Snoek towards the back, but I had to order them to leave him. Even if they got him out of the plane, he would be incapable of pulling his own cord. I was the last person out of the plane, and I counted 8 chutes below me. So it would appear only Lt. Snoek went down with the plane. I hope his widow is told he went out courageously. Not unconcious in a burning plane. War sucks. We were scattered as we floated to safety. I came down near Sgt Kern, Sgt Johnston and Sgt Cash. As we were gathering our chutes and preparing to move out and search for the others, I happened to hear a loud pop and looked up to see another Fort lose a wing. It looked from the formation to have been the Typewriter. She must have caught some serious fire, being exposed as she was after we went down. I counted 4, maybe 5 chutes. The plane was spiraling pretty badly. I'm amazed anyone got out. The four of us set off in the direction we last saw the other 5 guys. We had traveled maybe 100 feet when we heard a diesel engine. Taking cover, we saw a German truck and 2 German motorcycles with sidecars pass by. I looked into the back of the truck and saw Sgt Sheley and Sgt Mitchell. Assuming that the Germans had found the others, we looked for a place to get our bearings and figure out what to do next.

--Lt. Blecke's account of his evasion and return to Archbury can be found in his Debrief--